


Getting to know you

by Cenoura



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: And lots of love, Books, F/F, Fluff, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Reading, Sappy, Smut, Texting, all the feels, some snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cenoura/pseuds/Cenoura
Summary: What will happen when you suddenly meet someone who is so very much like you, yet at the same time so different? Someone who makes you interested, and happy, and attracted, and sometimes incredibly irritated?Well, for one thing, names are not important.





	1. Read me first

“Are you here by yourself?”

 

She looks up from the book she’s reading and into the face of a stranger standing beside her by the bar counter. Blue eyes, pale pink lips, blonde hair in some kind of short and messy ponytail, a little bit damp from the rain outside. An honest and questioning look that changes into slight embarrassment when she grimaces and shakes her head before continuing to speak.

 

“Sorry. That came out totally wrong.” The stranger composes herself and tries again. “What I really meant is to ask is if you’re waiting for someone because that seat is the only one that isn’t occupied and if it’s not reserved for anyone else…” The voice trails off, the question implied but unspoken.

 

She closes her book, using her index finger as a bookmark, while removing her bag from the bar stool next to her.

 

“Not to be a smartass or anything, but “May I sit here?” would have worked just fine, too.”

 

The strange girl sits down, placing her own bag in her lap.

 

“Actually, I think that statement just made you a smartass. But thank you.” The girl is smiling and doesn’t seem very offended, so she decides to let it go and returns to her book.

 

When she’s reading the rest of the world disappears. She loses herself in the words, letting them envelop her and allow her to follow the characters like a shadow through their universe. She’s deep into the story, absent-mindedly twirling the little plastic stick in her drink, when she’s interrupted by a voice.

 

“Pandemonium.”

 

“Excuse me?” She raises her head, confused, and sees the other girl looking at her while spinning a tumbler filled with clear liquid and a lime wedge in her right hand. 

 

“Pandemonium.” The girl nods to the book in her hand. “The book you’re reading, the Delirium series. I’ve read all of them, they’re good.”

 

“Really?” She places her finger as a bookmark again. “I mean, I think they’re good too, it’s not that. It’s just that most people our age consider them children’s books and ignores them because of that.”

 

“What makes you think I’m your age?” The girl looks amused, then shrugs. “I probably am, though. Besides, they’re Young Adult books, not for children. I’m supposed to be an adult, but I also feel pretty young so...yeah. I like them. Dystopian literature is kinda my thing.” She takes a drink from her glass and proceeds. “And I like the idea of being able to erase feelings. I mean, not that I necessarily feel the need to do that myself, but I guess it could come in handy sometimes.”

 

“I know, right?” She straightens up, feeling excited. Opportunities where she finds someone willing to discuss things like these are rare, and to meet someone who brings it up spontaneously? Even rarer. “I mean, I’d probably not like to get rid of  _ love _ , but there are a couple of other ones that I wouldn’t exactly miss.”

 

The girl twists her seat a little to the side so that they are facing more towards each other and looks both intrigued and encouraging.

 

“OK, like which ones? And why?”

 

***

 

It turns out that the stranger, who feels less and less strange by the minute, reads a lot more than dystopian YA literature. They talk about almost everything from Lauren Oliver to Chuck Palahniuk to David Mitchell, often digressing from the actual plot line and into subjects brought up in them (they spend quite some time discussing schizophrenia after one of them has mentioned Fight Club). There’s also mock-serious moment of grave silence when they toast the too-early passed away Terry Pratchett, who they both apparently adore, before falling into a fit of giggles because of their total geekiness.

 

She doesn’t know if it’s because they decide to order a couple of more drinks or if this is simply her normal behaviour as she gets to know someone, but as the hours go by she notices that the girl is getting more and more physical. It’s just tiny little things, like when she frowns and reaches forward to remove a stray hair out of her face, or letting their hands come side to side to touch on the bar, not for long, but a few seconds more than for it to be purely accidental. And there’s this one time when she places one hand on her thigh, resting it there while finishing a statement about time travel. It’s supposedly for emphasis, but when she removes it she lets it slide down towards her knee, making it feel almost like a caress with her fingertips.

 

As soon as each moment has passed the girl leans back again, hands to herself, smiling or laughing or taking a sip from her drink, and it’s like nothing has happened at all. Which, she tells herself, maybe is the truth. She might read in way too much in the actions of person she’s never met before and it seems a bit unnecessary to dwell on that tonight, so she decides to just roll with it. After all, it’s not like it’s uncomfortable, but rather the opposite.

 

***

 

“Well, this has all been very lovely”, the girl says, excessively polite like in an old Jane Austen novel, while getting down from her seat. “But it’s getting late, and I’m afraid I have to go home now.” She stands beside her, her full height making her come up to a little above eye level, and very casually continues. “Are you coming?”

 

She’s less surprised by the question than she thinks she should be. She takes in the image of the girl in front of her; a little taller than she is, with rather broad shoulders and narrower waist and hips, casually dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, nothing fancy but nice. Attractive and definitely interesting intellectually as well as physically. Then again, they don’t really know each other at all and apart from that tiny detail there are a lot of other things that probably makes this a rather bad idea right now. She too should go home and go to sleep, maybe after suggesting that they could get in touch another day, perhaps to continue their literary discussions.

 

It’s the sensible choice, really. The whole assessing of her situation takes no more than a couple of seconds and when she’s done the answer slips easily out of her mouth.

 

“Sure.”

 

Because what the head decides is a sensible choice doesn’t always correspond to what the rest of the body thinks about it.

 

They pick up their jackets and walk out into the street. The rain has ceased and the air is crisp and cool, still smelling slightly of ozone. It’s almost dark, but they stop next to a street lamp that seems a little bit off, light flickering and a little softer than that of the other ones. Standing face to face, the girl reaches out and takes her hand, lacing their fingers together and running a thumb across her palm. It sends a shiver up her arm, giving her goosebumps, and she takes a step forward. 

 

If she could be read like a book right now, the first page would say only two words.

 

_ Yes. Please. _


	2. But it feels so good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First touch, first kiss, a whole lot of fluff.

It all starts with her hand curling around the other girl’s neck, not so much to pull her forward as to pull herself closer in. The movement is slow yet purposeful and when their lips meet for the first time she relishes in the sudden swoon-and-burn feeling in her stomach. She uses her lower lip to nudge the other ones mouth apart, carefully, not wanting to push it too far or too fast, but the response is soft and immediate. It causes a sensation of a million tiny bubbles running through her veins, travelling through her body and making her fingertips tingle.

To be frank there are probably several reasons to why she shouldn’t do this, but her apparently way too logical and somewhat nerdy brain tries to justify it by reminding her that as long as there is an even number of negatives in an equation the end result will always be positive. Although mathematics most likely won’t apply to this particular situation she chooses to accept it because right now, in this moment, it feels like the only possible choice.

The whole train of thought is ridiculous and she almost starts to giggle, but at the same time she feels arms wrapping themselves around her waist, hands pressing gently but firmly against her back. And just like that she melts against softness and warmth, leaning into the other girl, and the only sound that comes out isn’t a giggle but something between a whimper and a moan. It’s entirely involuntary and she stiffens for a second, unsure of how the other one will react to something else than secrecy and silence. But the kiss isn’t even close to being broken and nothing else happens except for the hands on her back grasping her slightly harder to which she responds by putting both arms around the girl’s neck, twining fingers in her hair.

It’s like there is a silent signal that encourages them both to let go at the same time, pace and intensity picking up speed from one second to another. Hot breath mingling between wet mouths that are licking, biting and kissing each other with a faint taste of lime, gin and sugar. Fingers tracing up and down sides and backs, running through hair, caressing cheeks and jawlines. Soft breasts and hard hip bones colliding in a way that should be painful, but simply feels like the best thing ever, like that’s the way they should always fit together. The entire situation is like a great ocean wave, pulling them in and down, and they allow themselves to drown in it without hesitation.

When they finally decide to come up for air she is still clinging to her, head resting on her shoulder. For a split second she wonders if this is it, if they’re done. But then she feels moist and slightly chapped lips brush against her neck and she knows that no, this has probably only just started. She raises her head and they look into each other's eyes and once again she thinks that this still might be a bad decision.

But it could be the best bad decision she’s ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is actually the first part I ever wrote of this story, before I knew what would happen with these two. Still one of the chapters I'm most fond of, really.


	3. I wanna do bad things with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some cute first-time smut!

They enter the apartment in a fairly decent manner, but as soon as the door has closed behind them they’re more or less all over each other. Clinging together, breaking apart only for the time it takes to kick off shoes and drop jackets and bags on the floor, they kiss with the fiery intensity of those who knows that this might be for one night only, so why not take maximum advantage of the situation?

Her fingers are tangled in the girl’s hair and she’s pushing her up against one of the hallway closets, pressing their bodies close together. She wants to feel every inch of her, to know that she’s really there, that it’s not a fancy hallucination caused by a couple of drinks and what currently feels like a way too-long abstinence. But the girl is most definitely there because she can feel her hands feverishly running up and down her back before coming to rest on her hips, gripping them tight and pulling her impossibly closer. 

Their mouths meet in quick, hot kisses, wet and warm and absolutely intoxicating. The girl slows down for a couple of seconds, half-open lips softly touching hers, and then she runs the tip of her tongue across the inner edge of her bottom lip, following up with a light nip of her teeth. The action sends a jolt of electricity through her body and she can’t stop another one of those involuntary whimpers, which makes the girl smile against her face.

“Not here. Come.”

Taking one of her hands in a loose grip the girl leads her, walking fast, to an adjacent bedroom where she mildly pushes her down on the bed before half falling, half crawling on top of her. Holding her head softly between her hands the girl presses her mouth against hers, their tongues curling around each other. She doesn’t mind it, not in the slightest, but right now this isn’t enough, she wants to be on top and in charge. She slings her arm around the girl’s shoulders and rolls her over on her back so that she ends up straddling her hips. 

When she bends forward the girl reaches up to meet her and they tumble into another frantic, intense making-out session with fast, passionate kisses and encouraging sounds. Her hands roams all over the girl’s upper body, stroking up and down her sides and over her breasts, sliding up her neck and tickling her scalp. She receives pretty much the same treatment in return and when the girl starts tugging at the hem of her t-shirt she sits up and quickly pulls it over her head while the girl does the same to her own. She reaches around the girl’s back with one hand to unhook and remove her bra, dropping it to the floor together with the t-shirt.

The sight before her is almost freakishly arousing. The girl is lying there half-naked with her mouth partly open and panting, a heated and needy look in her eyes, being just so fucking amazingly beautiful. Slipping her hand behind the girl’s neck and tilting her head slightly she leans down into a kiss that’s so surging it causes her head to spin. She then continues by moving slowly downwards, kissing her way along her jawline and neck, down her body, running moist lips and hot fingers over smooth, pale skin. Her moves elicit a series of tiny gasps and whimpers from the other person, which in turns makes her own breathing become heavier, the touch of skin against skin feeling like a delicious burn. 

When she reaches the waistband of the girl’s jeans she stops for a second, grasping her hips and nuzzling the soft skin just below her navel. She runs her tongue along the hem, a light tickle that makes the girl shudder and moan, before she starts to undo the button and zipper. She nudges the girl to get her to lift her hips slightly so that she can get a grip of her jeans and underwear, gently pulling them both off at the same time. Still somewhat dizzy and astonished about this entire situation, and with her own heartbeat pounding in her ears she slides down between the girl’s legs.

The first time with someone new is a little bit like following a crudely drawn map over an area you sort of know, but aren’t fully familiar with. You think you know where you’re going, but when you think you’re supposed to turn left the way curves to the right instead and you decides to follow it anyway because you’re curious as to where it leads and also because you’re pretty sure that eventually you’ll find the place you originally were looking for. And on your way you discover areas and things that you never even knew was there, but they are wonderful and breathtaking and they leave you all happy thinking how fortunate you are to have experienced them at least once.

She hooks her left arm under the girl’s right leg while bending her head down to experimentally run her tongue over her. It tastes of salt, and sweet, and something that’s undefinable but so definitely her, and she’s rewarded with a shiver and a moan at the same time as the leg over her shoulder tenses, heel digging into her back. As she keeps going she slides her free hand up the girl’s stomach, letting it rest on her sternum so that she can feel her pulse against her palm, speeding up along with her licking strokes. The girl writhes under her touch, all the time making these enticing, needy noises. 

After a while she moves her hand down again, fingers tracing along the girl’s side, over her hip, letting them join the moves of her mouth. She lets her thumb mimic the pattern of her tongue while allowing first one, then two fingers slip into wet and warmth. The girl gives an audible gasp and rocks her hips while reaching one hand down to grab at her hair, just to have something to hold on to as she gets closer. When she comes, she slams her other hand into the headboard for purchase as she arches up against her mouth and hand, making the most pleasure-filled, lengthy moan.

She crawls up to lie beside the girl, stroking a couple of damp strands of hair away from her face and kissing her cheek and lips. When her breath has grown slow and steady again the girl makes a contented sigh and rolls over so that she lies draped over her hip, resting her arms on each side of her head. Looking down on her she smiles, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. 

“You’re good. You’re more than good. And…” The girl smirks and bends down to place several tiny kisses on her face and neck punctuating her words as she continues to speak. “...what kind of a host would I be if I didn’t return the favour?”

A couple of minutes later, when the girl’s tongue lands on her, warm and soft like moist velvet, she curls her fingers in the sheets and groans softly. And when the thundershock finally rushes through her body and she tilts her head back and oh, my god, she’s actually seeing stars, she’s probably so loud that it pierces right through the walls, but really, who cares?

While she’s still in her post-orgasmic bliss the girl moves up to lie next to her, wrapping one arm around her waist, lightly petting and breathing into her hair, and she thinks that this is perhaps the best she’s felt in a long time.

She’s good.

She’s safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I stole the title from the True Blood title song. So sue me. It's awesome.


	4. Shivers down my spine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. And books, lots and lots of books.

“You have a lot of books.”

It’s not so much a question as an observation. She walks along the shelves, which cover an entire wall before curving in the corner and continuing on the next one. The morning light shines through the window illuminating the spines and she runs her fingers over them as she goes. Occasionally she stops to pull one of the books out, examining the writing on the cover and then carefully putting it back again. The fourth time the procedure is repeated she turns to the other girl and holds the book up to her.

“Is this any good? I’ve been thinking about reading it for a while, but for some reason it hasn’t happened yet.”

The girl sits cross-legged on the couch, watching in amusement as her bookshelf is getting thoroughly examined.

“That one? Yeah, it’s OK. Not my favourite, but I like it.”

“Good. I’ll keep it on my to-buy list.” For a second there she almost asks if she can borrow it, but stops herself just in time. After all, you might want to know someone for at least 24 hours before lending something out to them, and perhaps also be sure that you’re going to meet them again to get it in return.

She walks a couple of steps further and pulls out another book. 

“How about this one?”

“That one…” The girl on the couch squints and leans forward. “I haven’t read that one. Bought it because I liked the cover. Still have high hopes for it though.”

She puts the book down and takes a step back, studying the wall in awe.

“I LOVE this. If I had enough space at home I’d have a room like this too.”

“Well, I always like to say that you can’t trust people who doesn’t read.” She uncrosses her legs, stretches and stands up. “I dated a guy a while back who hardly owned a single book. Didn’t last very long, obviously.”

“He didn’t read at all?”

“Well...he read some comics, but in my opinion that doesn’t count.”

She doesn’t reply to this, only looks at the girl with one eyebrow raised in a “really?”-look, gesturing to one of the shelves which is filled left to right with comic books. The girl shrugs.

“That’s different. Those are actual literature.”

“Oh, so you’re somewhat of a snob then?”

“If considering Garfield and Far Side not being actual literature compared to Velvet and Preacher makes me a snob, then yeah, I am.” The girl’s mouth quirks in a smile. “Besides, I prefer the term “aficionado”, if you please.”

“Yes ma’am.” She grins and turns back to the books. 

She’s so completely mesmerized by everything in front of her that she doesn’t notice when the girl walks up behind her, pushing her hair to one side to be able to lean her head against her shoulder, followed by wrapping both arms around her waist. For a fraction of a second she stiffens in surprise, but the feeling is gone just as quickly and she relaxes, placing her own hands on top of the other’s, stroking them lightly. 

The girl presses slightly against her back, softly brushing her lips against her neck, hot breath making all the little hairs stand on edge. She sighs and closes her eyes, leaning back into the embrace, feeling relaxed although her pulse is racing so hard she can almost hear her the throbbing of her own heart. 

“Can I see you again?” The words are a whisper in her ear, but they echo in her head and ricochet like flying sparks through her body. She twists around in the girl’s arms and cups her face in her hands, breathing a barely audible but devout “Yes” against her mouth before pressing their lips together. She can feel the other girl’s heart beat against her own chest, and it sends a shiver of satisfaction all through her body.

They exchange phone numbers and kiss again, soft and gentle this time, but just as she’s about to leave the girl lays a hand on her arm. 

“Wait a minute.” She hurries back into the living room and comes back out holding one of the books, handing it over to her with a smile. “So that you’ll have one more reason to keep in touch.”

She turns the book over in her hand. It’s the one she first picked off the shelf; “The Girl with All the Gifts”. She smiles back while putting the book in her bag.

“Like I needed another reason. But thanks, I appreciate it.”

There’s no more kissing, but they hug for a long time, hands stroking over arms and hair. They say goodbye and she goes out the door, down the stairs and out in the street. She hasn’t walked more than a couple of blocks when her phone buzzes, indicating a message. 

So I was thinking, how long do you need to finish the book? Wednesday OK?

She stops and types, feeling the smile spread across her face.

More than OK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, well, I like books. And I like name-dropping titles I like. You may see them as recommendations ;)


	5. Messaging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is key, and sometimes texting is easier than talking.

**The Girl:** Have you finished the book yet?

**She:** Yes.

**TG:** Aaaand…?

**S:** And I liked it. Like you said, not a favourite, but good.

**TG:** I can totally relate to the hungries. 

**S:** I’m pretty sure you don’t eat people.

**TG:** I don’t. Yet. But I like to eat.

**S:** I think we should discuss this. Both the book and your eating habits. Over food, preferably.

**TG:** YES.

**S:** Wednesday still good?

**TG:** Absolutely.

 

***

 

**TG:** So I was thinking, just in case, if we want to go someplace afterwards…

**TG:** Assuming we don’t suddenly realize that we can’t stand each other.

**S:** That’s probably unlikely, but go on.

**TG:** Your place or my place?

**S:** Your place.

**TG:** Why not yours?

**S:** I have a cat. She takes some getting used to.

**TG:** I like cats.

**S:** She’ll probably not like you. Nothing personal. She dislikes almost everyone.

**TG:** I’ll pet her into submission. What’s her name?

**S:** Lanfear.

**TG:** Perhaps not so prone to submitting then.

**TG:** My place it is.

 

***

 

**TG:** Do you really have a cat?

**S:** No. I have a mess.

**S:** The cat’s real, though. It’s my sister’s. She’s vicious.

**TG:** Your sister?

**S:** Well, mainly the cat. Although my sister can be quite a bitch sometimes.

**TG:** Still going with my place?

**S:** Yes, please. Mine’s still a mess.

 

***

 

**TG:** I’m still laughing. Can’t stop.

**S:** It wasn’t that funny.

**TG:** It was HILARIOUS!

**S:** Ha-fucking-ha.

**TG:** I can’t believe you managed to walk into a glass door.

**TG:** I mean, how could you not see it?

**S:** Because it was a goddamn GLASS DOOR, that’s why.

**TG:** But still. 

**S:** My forehead hurts and you’re being very unsupportive. And may I remind you we’re still supposed to be on a date.

**S:** Which, for some reason, is currently message based.

**S:** Would you please explain why you think it’s a cute idea to text me from the restroom?

**S:** About me accidentally walking into a glass door and HURTING MYSELF.

**TG:** Because it was really, really funny.

**TG:** And because I’m hilarious too.

 

***

 

**TG:** Home yet?

**S:** Nope. Still on my glorious walk of shame.

**S:** At least it’s not raining. 

**TG:** Perhaps you should be ashamed about yesterday.

**S:** Because…?

**TG:** For starters, you drink.

**S:** Not very ashamed of that.

**TG:** And you curse. A lot.

**S:** Mmm...no. Still not feeling it.

**TG:** And some of the things we did later were not very Christlike.

**S:** Well...

**TG:** You know that thing you said?   
**S:** I said a lot of things. Stop it. 

**TG:** I’m thinking about the thing you asked me to do.

**S:** I got that. Stop it.

**TG:** _ Begged _ , actually.

**S:** Please?!

**TG:** Ashamed yet?

**S:** More like embarrassed, but it probably looks the same to everyone who sees me right now.

**S:** It’s not that I regret it, or didn’t enjoy it, or anything. It was great, just not a fan of reviewing it.

**TG:** OK, I’ll stop. Promise.

**TG:** I just like teasing you.

**S:** I know you do.

 

***

 

**TG:** OK, being serious now.

**S:** I didn’t know you could do that.

**TG:** I can, actually. 

**TG:** Don’t spoil it.

**S:** Sorry.

**TG:** Look, I know we’ve pretty much just met, and that we’ve only been on one actual date. 

**TG:** But we’ve been texting a lot.  

**TG:** And, well, there was that night at the bar too, of course.

**TG:** Fuck it, I only want to say that I really like you. And I would like to see you again.

**TG:** And probably again, and again, and again.

**S:** You want me to be serious as well?

**TG:** Please.

**S:** I really like you too. And I would have been very disappointed if you wanted to call it quits after last night.

**TG:** Not a chance in hell.

**S:** Besides, it’s not like you have a choice, I  _ have _ to see you again.

**TG:** You do?

**S:** Sure. You never got your book back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I wanted to try something different. Kind of pleased with how it turned out, but will go back to ordinary writing in the next chapters.


	6. Order and chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balance is the key to a successful relationship.

“Remind me again why you’re the one doing all the cooking?” 

The girl is sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, one leg folded up under her and elbows on the table, twiddling a toothpick between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Because one, you paid for the food last time, so quid pro quo. And two, I’m better at it than you.”

She flips over a couple of bacon strips in the pan. The girl looks mildly offended.

“I’m a great cook!”

“I know you are. I’m still better, though.” She turns around to face her with a grin before she continues. “But it’s not like it’s a big deal. It’s not Michelin-star food; it’s Carbonara.”

“Duh. It’s cream, cheese and bacon. It’s a shitload of fat and salt and that makes it at least as good as anything from any of the places in the White Guide.”

She laughs. “Not sure I agree with you there, but I’m glad you’re so easy to please.” 

She turns back to the stove again, occupying herself with the cooking. The girl, obviously restless and impatient, snaps the toothpick in half and drops the pieces on the table before getting up from her chair to walk around in the apartment. She returns after a few minutes, slumping down in the same position as before.

“Your place. My God.”

She looks up from her bent-over position at the countertop. “What about it?”

“It’s so...tidy.”

“I usually clear it up a bit when I’m going to have people over.”

“But why?”

“Well…” She pauses, fiddling with the spoon she’s currently holding. “Because otherwise people might think I’m sloppy or lazy or disgusting or something like that.”

“So? It’s your place. Your rules.”

“I care what people thinks about me. You should know that by now.”

She looks away for a second, a bit embarrassed over this quality of hers which she knows, deep down, is way over the top sometimes. She sighs and raises her head again.

“And I mean...I love staying at your place. I do. But I can’t for my life understand how someone who needs, who ENJOYS to be so very disciplined and organized and detailed at her job can be so messy at home.” She shakes her head. “It’s not that it’s dirty, ‘cause it isn’t, it’s just...cluttered.”

“It’s called balance. I have to be all organized at work so I let it go when I get home. Hence the slight disorder.”

“Some parts are disordered, yeah. Others are plain chaos.”

The girl shrugs. “But it’s my chaos.”

She looks at the person sitting in front of her chewing on one half of the toothpick, dressed in a hoodie and a worn-out t-shirt with some indistinguishable print. Jeans ripped from use rather than for style. Mismatching colourful socks. Hair twisted up in that messy ponytail she always dons when she’s not at work.

"You don't worry much about anything, do you?"

"It happens. But not generally, no."

"Must be nice." She puts down the spoon and leans back on the counter. "I worry about things all the time. And when I don't have anything to worry about I worry about THAT, because then surely there must be something I have forgotten that I probably should worry about."

The other girl looks at her, frowning in disbelief.

"That sounds...exhausting."

"It is, sometimes. You kinda get used to it, though."

"I don't think I would. I'm actually sort of amazed that you say you have."

"Well." She shrugs and looks away again. "I've had over 30 years of practice. I'm proficient in both basic as well as advanced worrying."

There’s silence and she turns back to the pan, picking up the spoon to scoop up some of the sauce and blowing gently on it before she’s about to taste it. For a moment there she’s so lost in her own thoughts that she doesn’t hear the girl get up from the table and pad up behind her, running her fingers over her hips. The sudden surprise makes her yelp and flinch, and she drops the spoon, its contents splattering over an impressively large area when it hits the wooden floor. 

She turns around, only to be caught in the girl’s arms. She puts her hands on the other one’s shoulders as if to push her off, wriggling a little in a weak protest, but without really make an effort to get away.

“You’re making a mess!”

“No, I’m helping!”

“Exactly how are you helping right now?”

“By keeping up the balance between order and chaos in your otherwise so spotless home.”

The girl smiles, leans forward and kisses the corner of her mouth. She makes a little disapproving huff, against the comment rather than the action, but she relaxes and lets her arms slide over the shoulders and around the girl’s neck.

“You’re a weirdo.” She kisses her on the lips, light and sweet. “But I like you.”

She gives her another kiss, same as the first, before leaning back a little.

“However, you have to let me go. I have to rescue our food before it burns, and you…” She points her index finger at the girl’s chest. “...have to clean up the mess you made.”

“Fair. Not a fan of burned food.” The girl places a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’m going to get a rag.”

She looks after her as she goes, and she thinks that a little more chaos is probably exactly what she needs in her life right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long pause. Vacation happened.


	7. This is not a fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because something isn't exactly like a fairytale doesn't mean it isn't your kind of perfect.

She opens her eyes to a ceiling that isn’t hers.

It’s not that it’s an entirely unfamiliar ceiling, it always takes a couple of seconds for her to orientate herself when she wakes up in the morning. Slowly, her mind starts to recognize things around her; the crack in the plaster next to the ceiling lamp, the tiny groove in the mattress below her left shoulder and the softness of a pillow that is so much fluffier than the one she’s used to. Pieces falling into place and feeling more familiar with each breath.

Thankfully, the person lying beside her isn’t entirely unfamiliar either.

She rolls over on her side, curling up against the other girl’s back, sliding an arm around her waist and burying her face in the curve of her neck. It’s warm and it’s nice and she’s definitely not interested in getting up right now, although she probably should. 

“Smooth move.”

She feels a pair of cold feet tangle themselves with her own.

“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“No.” She yawns. “I just haven’t decided whether to actually get up or not yet.”

The girl turns around so that they’re facing each other and draws her into a lazy kiss. The taste of the other one’s mouth is sharp and sweet, but also a little out of place at the moment. Feeling slightly perplexed she pulls away just a little bit from her lips and frowns. 

“Wait...have you brushed your teeth?”

“Maaaaybe. OK, yes. I couldn’t sleep somewhere around 5 so I got up for a couple of minutes. Needed something to do before going back to bed.

“Unfair! I’m still reeking of morning breath and you’re all minty fresh like some kind of Disney princess.”

She makes a short, sharp laugh and pushes herself up to some sort of half-seated position, leaning back on her elbows.

“Do I LOOK like a fucking Disney princess?”

She really doesn’t. Her hair is a tousled mess, her teeth aren’t perfectly straight and pearly white (although, obviously, minty and clean) and her skin isn’t absolutely flawless and peachy. Still, her eyes are an almost impossible shade of blue and despite, or more likely thanks to, the non-princess traits she’s so fucking attractive that you simply can’t help but to press up against her and lose yourself in yet another kiss. 

It’s a bit like drowning, to become breathless and let yourself fall down without knowing if you will ever get back up again. And then you realize that perhaps you don't even want to, that you actually could stay in this warm, safe space forever, that there doesn't need to be anything more than restless hands and wet mouths and faint moans.

Screw all those Disney princesses and their happily ever after. Happy right now is all that counts. 

She finally realizes, not without regret, that she might have to let go after all, at least for a little while. Sliding down on her side and using one arm to hold herself up, she’s probably looking just as dazed and disheveled as she feels. Sighing contentedly, her mouth curls in a smirk.

“Well, fuck me.”

This earns her a laugh, some light fingers petting her hair and a quick kiss on the forehead.

“Love to. But I really have to get to work.”

She gets out of bed, the floor creaking under her feet.

“You can stay a little longer if you’d like. Just lock the door and put the keys in the mailbox when you leave.”

She hesitates for a second, looking like she’s contemplating something before she continues to speak.

“Actually, forget the mailbox. You can hold on to them if you want to. Just in case.”

She looks after her as she walks out of the bedroom, then lies down on the fluffy pillows again, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and smiles.

The ceiling above her still isn’t hers. 

She’s perfectly fine with sharing it for a while, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me! Will try to put out the rest of the chapters pretty soon, no more than 2-3 days in between!


	8. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little trouble in paradise, because everything can't be princess perfect all the time. Life, you know.

She regrets it the second the glass hits the floor and smashes into countless tiny, sparkling pieces. She’s not the type who smashes things when she’s upset, but this time she’s simply so frustrated and...well, there were bound to be casualties. It’s nothing she’s proud of though, especially not since the other girl just sits there on the couch through the whole process. Arms crossed in front of her chest and clearly annoyed about the situation, but still appearing pretty calm.

It started out as a minor thing, really. They were talking about everyday things, joking around for a bit, but then she tried to turn the conversation into more serious things and also posed a question she really wanted a proper answer to. And despite this the girl continued to try to be funny, and avoided some questions by only answering and sometimes elaborating others, which she has noticed is more of a rule than an exception when it comes to her. Usually she can take it, sometimes making clear that it irritates her to some extent, before switching subject and letting it pass. However, this time is one too many, she’s too tired and she snaps, lashing out with a comment about this behaviour that is perhaps a little meaner than she originally intended. 

The girl just seems surprised at first, but it’s quickly replaced with a flash of anger.

“OK, where the hell did that come from?”

“Please. You’re a goddamn expert when it comes to dodging questions you don’t want to answer and I’m getting so sick and tired of it!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh sorry, my mistake. You do answer them, as long as it’s convenient for you! If it’s about something funny, or something simple and commonplace, then you’re approachable as fuck. Everytime we touch a subject that involves some other kind of feeling I get the sense that I might as well be talking into thin air. And it’s not only when we talk like this; you do it when we text too. I don’t know if you’re even thinking about it, but you do.”

She’s pacing around the room as she talks, and she can feel her voice getting louder and angrier but seems unable to stop it. 

“As long as things are fun and easy everything is fine. But then I might ask you something about me, about us, about something a little more, well, deep and...we never get anywhere. Never. If I text you three questions, one of which is more serious than the others, you somehow only manages to answer the other two. It’s so predictable that I honestly don’t even know why I bother sometimes.”

The girl still just sits there, obviously taking everything in but still not responding, which in fact might be the best course of action right now. She is all revved up by now and in no mood to be interrupted.

“I can’t have it like this, with you going into hiding every time you decide that things get a little uncomfortable. I need us to be able to talk about things like these. Because let’s face it, this wasn’t such a big thing from the beginning. It didn’t have to be. It’s just...I just don’t get it. I don’t get why this always is SO FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR YOU!”

And this is the moment when a glass on the nearby table is swept to the floor and quickly rendered useless.

She’s fuming and she wishes she could just leave, get out of this whole situation, but it’s not an optimal course of action since this is her own apartment. For a fraction of a second she seriously considers locking herself in the bathroom for the satisfaction of getting to slam a door shut behind her, but decides that is actually a bit below her. She might be childish from time to time, but not that childish. Instead she buries her face in her hands and takes a couple of deep breaths to compose herself. It seems to work, because when she looks up and continues her voice is lower and calmer, if a little bit trembling.

“I get that it’s easier to joke about things or simply avoid them and respond to something else than to actually think about before you answer. But...I only want you to at least acknowledge what I’m saying. Show that you care. And if you don’t know what to tell me, well, then it’s OK to say that you don’t know. I’d prefer that before having it dismissed with a laugh or a joke.”

The girl uncrosses her arms and when she speaks her voice is low and collected, but at the same time sharp and firm.

“Are you done?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Right. I know that I do that occasionally. I’m aware that people think I take a lot of things quite lightly as I don’t spend a lot of time thinking of them, because I don’t feel like I have to. That’s how I am, you know that already. And because of that I guess that what I say might be perceived as flippant, or as I’m trying to joke it off. Sometimes it’s on purpose, other times it isn’t. Most often the latter actually, believe it or not. But yeah, sure, sometimes I deliberately dodge questions because I don’t know what to say, and I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you by doing that. However, you…” Leaning forward from her position in the couch, the girl points a finger at her. “...aren’t as innocent in this whole thing as you probably would like to think you are. Did it ever occur to you that I perhaps didn’t get what you were asking? Or at least that not that is was that important to you?”

The girl goes back to her arms-crossed position, back straight.

“Because here’s the thing, you are the fucking master of saying one thing and meaning another. And yes, maybe I should have learned that by now, but thankfully you don’t do it all the time and frankly it’s not always easy to tell when you do until it’s too late. And when I don’t catch it you sound all sad or annoyed or both and it makes me feel like shit although I hardly think it’s my fault.”

There’s no anger in her voice, only a slight trace of irritation.

“Like what you asked me today, that got us into this…” The girl waves her hands about. “...thing. It wasn’t simply because you wanted to know out of curiousity, right?”

She opens her mouth for a snappy answer, but realizes that neither does she have one, nor is this really the place for it.

“No…” she grumbles, looking down at her feet shuffling on the floor.

“See, I get that. Now. I didn’t then, because that’s not how my mind works. Not like yours.” The girl pauses and waits until she looks at her again. “So why did you ask me, really?”

“Because I’ve had a shitty day. Because I felt insecure about...everything, I guess. Because I wanted you to say something nice about me, so that I would feel better. I know you like me, but sometimes I like to hear it too. The thing is...when I feel like that I don’t want to ask about it right out, ‘cause then it feels like you might do it just because I’ve asked for it and not because you actually mean it.”

“I DO like you. A lot. You’re awesome. But from time to time you’re also incredibly stupid.” The last words are said with affection, not anger, and the girl smiles a little and pats the space next to her on the couch. “Come. Sit with me.” 

She does, a bit tentatively, and the girl takes one of her hands with both of hers.

“I’ll promise that I’ll try to change. But you’ll have to promise do that too. I can’t read your mind. I won’t always know if you mean exactly what you say or if you’re looking for a specific answer that I’m not aware I should give.”

“I get that. I do. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” The girl strokes her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Now, the thing you were asking me before. Ask me again.”

“What?”

“Ask me again. Now that I have a chance to answer you properly.”

She looks confused, but straightens up and asks the question one more time.

“Seriously, what is it that you like about me?”

The girl looks her straight into the eyes and smiles her mischievous, crooked smile.

“Your absolutely gorgeous ass.”

Which is exactly the same answer she was given before, when all hell broke loose. Irritation flares through her once again.

“Oh, come on…!” She pulls back, ready to get up and go, but the girl holds on to her hand.

“No, but listen!” The girl leans forward to put her free hand on her thigh, emphasizing what she’s saying. “I’m not trying to fuck around with you this time. I’m not done yet. The thing is, there isn’t one specific thing, or for that matter two or three, that makes me like you. Your ass is definitely one, though. But there’s also the fact that you’re funny, and have an almost impeccable taste in books, and is a great listener, and a whole list of other things. It’s everything put together. It’s that it’s you. I can’t explain it in any better way than that.” Twining their fingers together, the girl continues. “I might not be able to give you the answers you want all the time. But I think you know that already, and that you can be OK with that too.”

“Yeah, I can. Of course I can.” She takes a deep breath, in through her nose, out through her mouth, eyes closed. “Sometimes I feel that all that comes out of my mouth is just a lot of incomprehensible rambling, but I think you actually understand me now. And think I understand you too.”

“See?” The girl places a kiss on her forehead. “Most of the time you’re not stupid at all.”

She scowls at her at first, but the expression soon turns into a tiny smile. The girl cocks her head to the side.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

“Great. Then let’s get our perfectly good asses up from the couch and clear all the glass off the floor.”

“I thought you preferred your place to be a mess?”

She fails to stifle a laugh just as she barely manages to dodge the pillow thrown at her.


	9. Hope and glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, Monday's ugly sister! Also, a hint of a name, finally.

"Tuesdays SUCK!"

The girl kicks off her shoes and flops down on the couch next to her. She's curled up in the corner reading a book as usual, but she puts it down now that she's got company.

"What did Tuesdays ever do to you?"

"It's the most worthless day of the week. Monday's ugly sister. Nothing good ever happened on a Tuesday."

"Is that so?"

"It is." The girl begins counting on her fingers. "Look, Monday's OK, because it's the first day of the week and you're still fresh from the weekend. Wednesday is hump day, when you've passed the middle of the work week. Thursday, then we're getting close to the weekend, and Friday is basically weekend already. But Tuesday? That's a fucking pile of crap and nothing else."

"Come here." She adjusts her position so that the girl has room to sit between her legs, leaning back against her chest as she wraps her arms around her. "So, what bad things have happened to you today to make this Tuesday so very Tuesday-y?"

"A client called for no other reason than to yell at me and did not apologize even though he was wrong and I wasn't. Then I actually managed to fuck up a thing I was working on and it took me way too long to get it right again. It's raining. My new shoes are chafing. I forgot my book at home and had nothing to read on my lunch break.”

As she’s listening to the list of complaints she burrows her nose in the girl’s hair, softly inhaling the faint citrusy smell of her shampoo. When the rant is over she places a kiss behind her ear before speaking.

"Huh, sounds like a terrible day indeed. But I think I can make it at least a tiny bit better."

She lets go of the girl’s waist and places her fingertips at the nape of the her neck, fanning them out over her scalp as she moves her hands upwards, nails scraping lightly against skin. The girl shivers, a ripple through her whole body, making her shoulders draw up and her back curve slightly. She stops moving, fingers still in her hair.

“Sorry, am I doing something wrong?”

“No. You’re doing something right.”

Her head falls a little bit forward while she’s working her hands through her hair, occasionally stopping to untangle a couple of strands from each other before continuing the massage. The girl sits still and silent for the most part, sometimes shivering with pleasure again, sometimes humming appreciatively, becoming more and more relaxed under her touch. It’s almost five minutes before she speaks, voice a bit hazy.

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What?”

“Your name. It’s quite unusual.”

 

“Might not be a total surprise, but it’s not my actual name, it’s an abbreviation.” She sighs. “My parents were...well, they were kind of hippies. Still are, in a way. So they chose a name which they thought were absolutely fabulous at the time, without not really considering the struggles of the poor child bearing it.”

“You have such a flair for drama sometimes. So what’s your real name then?”

She doesn’t answer, but goes to get her wallet, takes out her driver’s license and flips it into the girl’s lap before sitting down behind her again. The girl looks at it and chuckles.

“Oh, OK. I get it. Thank you, mum and dad.”

“Right? Hence the nickname.” She places one hand on the girl’s shoulder and continues to scratch her head behind and above the ear. “In school I used to go by my last name because I hated my first one so much.”

“Like MacGyver?”

“Yeah, exactly like MacGyver. Except not so prone to wind up in various dangerous situations and with a total lack of inventiveness due to being clumsy as fuck.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad. And you should at least be happy about the first part.” The girl drops the license on the couch and tilts her head back against the stroking fingers. “Besides, it’s not an ugly name. Pretty fabulous in fact. Just a little bit...unusual.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And it’s a literary name, you can at least be happy about that. I mean, since you love books so much.” 

“Probably a coincidence, but yeah, I guess.”

“You could have been named Bathsheba.”

“Ugh. No thank you.”

“Or Veruca.”

“Hey! You don’t mess with Roald Dahl. But still, no.”

The girl giggles at the comeback and glances over at the license again.

“Why didn’t you simply use your middle name?”

“Because my middle name is Hope. You saw that, right?”

“Yeah, but it isn’t such a bad name.”

“Maybe not, but no. Never been a fan of that one either. Also a hippie name, and one which can’t be shortened into something neutral.”

“Fair enough.”

The conversation is over and she decides that she is done with the grooming for now. She removes her hands and reverts to the sort-of full body hug from behind, allowing the girl to lean back into her arms.

“There’s actually something else I’ve been thinking about asking you as well.”

“Shoot.”

“That night, at the bar…” The girl looks at her over her shoulder. “Why were you there?”

“What, a girl can’t go to a bar by herself?”

“Sure she can. But I know you rather well by now, and you’re not the type who does that.”

“True.” She pauses, hesitating. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but...I had just stopped dating someone and I needed to get out for a while, by myself.”

“What, that very day?”

“Oh, god no. A couple of weeks earlier. Nothing serious really, it never got that far, but I have a tendency to dwell on things for a little longer than necessary...hey, don’t make that face!” She flicks the ear of the girl who, grinning, has made an overly dramatic eye-roll at the last part of the sentence. 

“Anyway, I felt like I had to get my ass away from my apartment for at least a couple of hours. See something else than the same walls, the same furniture, the same everyday things around me all the time. The combination of alcohol and literature seemed like the most appealing at the moment.” She nuzzles into the girl’s neck, running lips over soft, warm skin. “What about you?”

“I was on my way home from work. I was bored. It was raining. I wanted to do something that made me happy. There was a bar nearby and Gimlets usually make me happy, so…” The girl shrugs. “Became a lot happier than I expected though, but for entirely other reasons.”

Her face lights up with a smile while she twists around a bit to be able to kiss her, lingering on her mouth for a couple of extra seconds just for the sheer sweetness of it. 

“Of course, I should have known right when I sat down that it was going to be a good day.”

“Really? Why?”

 

“Well…” The girl pauses, a tiny smirk on her face. “For starters, it wasn’t a Tuesday.”


	10. The letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those things you can't say out loud? You can always write them down.

Hi.

It’s me. 

You’ll most likely never read this letter. Mainly because I’m not sure I will ever send or give it to you as I guess things like these should be said rather than written, but also because you might take a look at it and decide that it probably contains too much FEELINGS and I know you’re not into having too much of that thrown at you at once. Sorry not sorry. But I really need to say (or, well, write) this anyway, so here it goes:

I like you. A lot. God, that’s so cliché to begin with and of course you already know that I do, but somehow it still felt like the best way to start. Because the thing is that it’s not that simple, it’s not that I just like you. It’s that sometimes when I think of you it feels like the ground tilts under my feet and I get all dizzy, like vertigo. It’s like I can feel your fingers on my skin or your breath against my face or hear your voice, and suddenly the world spins too fast for me to follow.

On my phone I have a folder with screencaps of texts you’ve sent me and conversations we’ve had. Things that I think are funny, or nice, or adorable, or all of the above, things that have made me very happy in one way or another. I scroll through them from time to time, especially when I need something to cheer me up. They always make me smile and I enjoy re-creating that warm, fuzzy, tingly feeling I got the first time I read them. I guess some people would call this kind of behaviour a bit creepy, but to hell with that, I’m aiming for cute.

If I could, I’d probably hold on to you all the time. I guess you’ve already noticed, but when I hug you from behind (which is one of my favourite things to do, by the way) I like to rest my head on your shoulder with my nose against your neck or in your hair. You always smell like berries. I have no fucking clue how you’re able to do that, but you do. Always. 

I don’t think you’re perfect. In fact, I find it comforting that you’re not, and that you don’t seem to care very much about it. Your jokes are terrible and sometimes I feel that if I hear one more bad pun from you I will go crazy. Then again, I’d probably miss them if you didn’t repeat them over and over the way you do. You’re awfully messy, although I think you have improved since I first met you. I’m no longer scared of tripping over a pile of clothes or a stack of books when I’m in your apartment, which I must admit is kind of a relief. I bruise easily.

One of your front teeth is a little bit crooked which causes it to overlap the other one. You have that scar in your right eyebrow which almost splits it in two if you don’t put makeup on it. And you do that smirk which you think makes you look a little bit like Natalie Dormer, which it totally doesn’t but that still doesn’t mean it makes you any less pretty. Because you ARE pretty. You’re more than that. You’re wonderful.

I love you. I wasn’t sure about it until now, but I do. I didn’t plan for this to happen, but I’m glad that it did. I’m glad that I had a shitty day and went to that bar. I’m glad that it rained so that you decided to go there too. I’m glad that I brought a book so that we had a reason to start talking. I’m glad for everything that has happened since then because it means that we’re here right now. And I know forever is a really long time, but I wish that’s how long you will agree to stay with me because that’s what I’m planning to do with you. If you’ll let me. I really hope you do.

I love you.  
I love you so, so much.  
I just thought you should know.


	11. Girlfriend/Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's not always a need to label things, but sometimes it can be nice.

“What are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

They’re lounging on the couch, half-dressed in t-shirts and panties, mindlessly watching some movie on Netflix. She’s leaning against the other ones shoulder, one hand resting gently on her thigh. The girl’s arm, in turn, is wrapped around her back, fingers slowly twirling her hair.

“This.” She looks up and gestures between the both of them. “What exactly is this?”

“Oh, I see.” The other girl twists around a bit so that she can look straight at her. “This is called cuddling. You do it with people you like. You can either do it like we do now, with your clothes on...well, almost on anyway, or you can...Ow!”

She rubs her thigh where she just got slapped. 

“You know what I mean.” 

She frees herself from the arm that’s holding her and moves to straddle the other girl’s lap so that they are face to face. 

“You and me. What are we?”

“Well…” She comes to hold her lightly by the hips. “I haven’t really thought about it like that, actually.”

She pauses for a second, then looks her right in the eyes.

“You want the whole girlfriend thing, don’t you?”

The question goes straight to her heart like an arrow. It pierces her, and while it sort of stings it also spreads warmth through her entire body. She lowers her gaze, chews nervously on her lower lip and takes a deep breath before opening her mouth.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

It feels a bit like when you’ve jumped off a high cliff into deep water. Although you know you’ll survive the move still makes you lightheaded, and you’re never really sure of how it’ll feel when you break the surface. 

She feels the grip on her hips tightening a little, a gentle squeeze, and looks up into bright eyes and a slightly crooked smile.

“Okay. So you’re my girlfriend then.”

The straightforward statement makes her laugh a little, both from being happy and feeling somewhat relieved. 

“You’re not exactly the romantic type, are you?”

“Nope. Never got that gene.” She shrugs. “Guess you’ll just have to live with it now that you’re stuck with me.”

“I could probably do a lot worse.”

She cups the girl’s cheek, bends forward and lets their lips graze each other ever so gently, touching the tip of her tongue with her own. The action is met with a needy groan and she feels hands running back over her hips, down her backside, grasping her and pulling her closer. She slides one hand to the back of the other girl’s neck, the other one snaking around her waist. The kiss becomes something else entirely, something deeper and more powerful. They’re sucking, licking, lightly biting, and she can taste something tart and sweet, like apples, on the other girl’s lips. A delighted moan escapes her and she’s immediately rewarded with a kiss that’s so intense it makes her glad she’s sitting down because her knees must have instantly turned to jelly.

This isn’t even kissing anymore, it’s like breathing, something you need to survive. 

When she eventually comes back to reality again, dizzy but deliriously happy, she looks at the person in front of her. The person who is now her girlfriend. Her messy, annoying, geeky and absolutely wonderful girlfriend. Her t-shirt has slid up a bit over her stomach, exposing a strip of soft, lightly tanned skin. She runs her thumb over a small, white mark just above the hip bone.

“Never thought of this before. What’s it from?”

“Battle scar.”

She doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, just cocks her head and looks at her with an air of total disbelief. The girl laughs.

“It’s from when I had chickenpox as a kid. Not nearly as exciting as close hand combat.”

She snorts and tries to look very offended while at the same time trying to stifle a giggle.

“This relationship is really off to a great start if one of the first things you do is trying to lie to me.”

“I prefer to think of it as “spicing things up”. And I won’t do it unless it’s absolutely necessary. Like now.”

She lets go of her faked irritation in favour of a broad grin. Then she leans forward for yet another kiss, different from before, soft and playful and just genuinely happy. Afterwards she smiles again and tugs with both hands at the hem of the other girl’s t-shirt.

“So...you said something about other ways of cuddling?”


	12. Cuddling level: Advanced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more cuddling. Or, well, yeah, smut.

The TV is on, movie still running in the background, the two main characters arguing in loud voices. But nothing of that really matters now as she holds onto the girl’s t-shirt, using it to pull her closer at the same time as she leans forward into one of those charged kisses that always threatens to take her breath away. She slides her hands under the shirt, running fingertips up over smooth sides and soft skin. The light tickle causes a tiny shiver to run through the girl’s body and she feels her giggle quietly against her lips. With the girl’s arms looped around her waist she can feel warm hands stroking her back, following her spine almost all the way up to the back of her hairline and down again.

The pace of their kisses varies from long and surging to quick and feverish, lips being teased apart to let them taste each other, to let tongues run over teeth. Heat rushes through her body and the girl’s skin feels burning hot under her fingers. Somehow they’ve managed to get rid of their t-shirts, throwing them on the floor, but she’s so engaged and at the same time so lost in the delicious feeling of them being so close together that she can’t remember exactly how and when it happened. And yet this is still not enough; she wants more, needs more, has to be even closer than she already is.

With a smooth movement she slides one of her arms around the girl's shoulders and uses her own body weight to coax the other one down on the couch, onto her back. The girl doesn't really need to be persuaded and responds by sliding down on the cushions, wriggling a little to make room for them both. She follows, moving a bit to the side so that she comes to straddle one of the girl's thighs, their legs intertwined, chest against chest. 

"Sorry", she mumbles against her neck. "Don't wanna crush you."

"You're not THAT heavy." The voice has a hoarseness caused by arousal, but with an amused undertone.

The girl's fingers are playing over her ribs and she knows she ought to be ticklish, but instead the touch seems to make every pleasure center in her brain light up like bright neon. It feels like the inside of her chest is on fire, a warm, tingly feeling that spreads through her arms and down to her hands and fingers while at the same time running down her stomach, radiating over her hips and groin. The girl reaches her head up, seeking her mouth and he half sinks, half falls into the embrace as one fleeting thought passes through her mind.

How did I end up here and how could something be so goddamn wonderful and is this even real?

While keeping some of her weight on one hand she lets the other one make long, languid strokes over the girl’s upper body. She feels every curve, every dip, every inch of soft skin of her shoulders, breasts and stomach until she finally traces the hand up again. Letting her fingers run over the girl’s chest she finally ends up cupping her jaw, breaking the kiss and stroking her lower lip lightly with her thumb. The girl opens her eyes and looks right at her, blue eyes meeting gray, while smiling and pressing a kiss to the pad of the finger.

She gently pulls her hand away, letting it slide downwards again as the girl pulls her down to let their lips meet once more. When she reaches the hem of the girl’s panties she runs her fingers under the elastic, stroking the smooth skin just beneath the waistband a couple of times back and forth before moving even further down over curly hair to damp heat. 

The first brush of her fingers entices a moaning exhale against her mouth and she feels the girl’s hands curl even tighter around her neck. She keeps stroking, pushing and teasing, relishing in the effect her movements have on the other person while pressing her own hips slowly but firmly against the girl’s leg, taking care of her own pleasure as well as the other ones. 

As always there’s no sense of time, things just happens and fall into place as they go. The touch of a hand causes an excited gasp that is quieted with a pair of demanding lips which makes fingernails rake over a scalp which in turn sends a tremor through a spine ending up in a sharp jerk of crotch against hip bone. For now, both of them are abandoning every coherent and logical thought to just go with the flow and do what feels good. 

They’re kissing until they’re almost breathless, occasionally running moist and swollen lips over jawlines and necks, then back to mouth against mouth again. The girl squirms underneath her hand, making sure she finds exactly the right place to touch at each moment. The fluttering of her fingers speeds up as the body underneath them responds and the gasping moans against her mouth and neck intensifies. One final stroke and the girl comes with a relieved and loud sigh, back arching and fingers curling into the cushion beneath her. She’s not that far away herself and moves against the thigh between her legs, rocking her body just a couple of more times to get there.

Her own release is soft and sweet, not earth-shattering but desirable. It’s a quiet whimper against the smooth skin just below the girl’s ear. The arm she’s leaning on buckles a bit, causing her to slump down towards the girl beneath her, so she lets go and slides down to lie beside her. As she does, she notices that their panting breaths are in sync for a couple of seconds, and she smiles a little to herself.

“I think I might need a minute”, the girl mumbles through almost closed lips, one arm slung limply over her eyes.

“You can have as many as you want.” She pushes herself up on her elbow and kisses the corner of her mouth. “I’m good.”

Deliberately misinterpreting her words, the girl chuckles lightly.

“Yeah. You’re good.”


	13. I will miss you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we've reached the end (for now at least). Confessions are made and...names are named.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided that since I suck at keeping my promises on when I'm going to post and since I might be away for a while I will put up the last four chapters at once. Enjoy! I really hope someone out there like my girls as much as I do.

Ten days really isn’t a long time and yet it somehow feels like it might as well be borderlining eternity. Ten days is less than two weeks, but still more than one. Ten days is how long the girl will be away from her and it’s by far the longest time that has passed without them seeing each other since they first met. 

She looks at her, standing there in the hall with the front door still closed behind her, shifting from one foot to another. Sometimes she thinks that they spend at least a fourth of their time together like this, knowing that one of them have to leave, yet still trying to prolong that goodbye. She reaches out to stroke the girl’s cheek and at the same time push away a stray strand of blonde hair from her face. 

“When are you leaving?”

“In about…” The girl checks the time on her phone “...two hours. And I need to pack first.”

“With only two hours to go?”

“So? I have a list.”

“YOU have a list?”

“Well...not really. I'm thinking about throwing my bag into the closet and hoping that something sticks.”

“Of course. That sounds more like you.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and takes a long, deep breath that’s almost,but not quite a sigh.

“It feels a bit weird being without you for so long.”

The girl’s lips curl in a tiny smile.

“Needy.”

Irritation over the remark flares in her for a second and she doesn’t manage to keep it in. She knows it shows on her face as she drops her arms and opens her mouth, words coming out a little too loud.

“Needy, really? I LIKE you. I like being with you. I CAN be without you for ten days, no problem; it’s just that I would prefer not to. If that’s being needy, then fine, I guess I am. You’ll just have to live with that.”

She looks down at her feet, lowering her voice. 

“But I’ll miss you. I know you’re not away for very long, really, but I’ll miss you anyway.”

Taking a step forward, the girl comes to stand right in front of her and places her hands on top of her shoulders, stroking them lightly.

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to be funny. Guess I failed.” The girl places a kiss on her forehead, breathy and sweet. “And I’ll miss you too. Of course I will.”

She puts her hands on the girl’s hips, leaning into her arms as anger and embarrassment melts away. They stay like that for a little while until she finally comes to think of something she almost had forgot and jerks her head up. The girl raises a quizzical eyebrow at her.

“Just a minute.” 

She leaves the room and comes back holding a cream-coloured envelope in an outstretched hand. The girl takes it and turns it over with a questioning look.

“What’s this?”

“It’s something I wrote a while back, for you. Wasn’t sure whether I would actually give it to you or not in the end, but...yeah, I think you should have it after all.”

The girl makes a motion to open it, but she reaches forward, placing a hand on top of hers.

“Not now. Save it for later. For when you arrive.”

With a little laugh, the girl stops what she’s doing and drops the envelope into her bag.

“OK, I will. And I’m so sorry, but I really, REALLY have to go now.”

The girl takes her hand, lacing their fingers together and runs the thumb across her palm, just like the first time they met. Sliding the other hand over her hip and around to the small of her back the she is gently pulled into a hug, the girl’s head resting on her shoulder with lips lightly brushing her neck. Tiny kisses travel up towards and over her jawline, until they end up resting and deepening on her mouth. She clings on to the girl, arms around her neck, breathing against her soft, hot lips. After an indefinite amount of time, but definitely too soon, the girl ends the kiss with a quick nip to her lower lip before taking a step back, still holding on to her hand. 

“I could probably do that all day, but…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“I’ll keep in touch. And thanks for the letter, I’ll remember to pack it. I’ll put it on my list!” The girl looks down at the envelope in her bag. “I might have to read it already at the airport though. Would that be OK?”

“Knowing your total lack of patience I’d be surprised if you’d even get that far.” She smiles and kisses her on the cheek. “Go. And text me when you get there so that I’ll know you’ve survived the flight.”

***

Some hours later she hears her phone buzzing next to her on the couch. While she puts down the book she’s been reading, after having located the receipt she uses as a fancy bookmark, the phone goes off once more, then a third time. She picks it up and beams at the screen, feeling her heart jump and flutter in her chest, that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling spreading all through her body.

The Girl: Des…  
TG: Des, that was beautiful.  
TG: Desdemona Hope MacGyver, I love you.  
She: God, I hope you know my last name isn’t really MacGyver.  
S: But I love you too, Hannah.  
S: I really love you too.

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened when I was in the mood to write some F/F, but didn't really have a female ship that fit the part that I had thought out. Originally it was only going to be one ficlet, but it kind of...expanded. It wasn't written in order either, I started with chapter 2, then 6, then 4, and then I realized that I really liked these characters and wanted to give them a whole story. 
> 
> Will probably post 1-2 chapters a week. Enjoy!


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